The OddSock Drawer
by Thaumologist
Summary: Drabbles, one-shots, and abandoned stuff. Say hello to the useless, the lost, and the dreams. M just in case.
1. Calling

**Welcome to the odd-sock drawer. This is where I will host my drabbles/abandoned stuff. I know I can't hold anyone to any threats, but I'd much rather people don't lift ideas without giving me a warning. Most of these will be ones I have no interest in continueing, but I'd love to see someone else do it.**

**These will probably all be un-betaed, and there will be no update schedule. This is my sandpit.**

**As normal : I don't own Harry Potter. That would be JKR's. I don't own plenty of other things I've drawn inspiration from. But I will mention those as they come up. I read a lot of fanfiction, so I may have read yours. If you feel you wrote something I used, message me, and if I have previously read yours, I'll give you the credit you deserve. **

**To start off with, a religiously raised Harry. This is named 'Calling'**

French is in _italics_, and this is laid back. Go with the flow.

**Enjoy**

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><p>The boy sat in the dirt, snow falling around him. If anyone had been there to ask what he felt, he wouldn't have known how to answer, for this life was all the boy knew. He had been living; no, make that surviving; on the streets for four weeks now. As far as he was aware, this was better than The Cupboard. At least outside, he didn't get hit. At least outside, he could find companionship – the birds in the trees would come down and sit on his legs as he woke up, singing their praises to the sun.<p>

The night was getting cold, and dark. The boy could see a light, at the end of the road. He didn't know this area. But lights were good, weren't they? He made his way into the light, and lay in the archway. Soon, the cold and the stone and the light would accompany him into his dreams.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The Father went to the doors, opening them before any of the congregation would be coming for morning mass. He did not see the snow covered view he had been expecting, instead, a small boy, no older than five at the very most, lay on the floor, the snow completely missing from the ground around him. But that was not all, birds, large and small, stood all over and around him, their silent vigil unbroken by the priest.

The small boy stirred, and spoke to them "Thank you brothers. Fly well". And all of them left, a susurrus of wings breaking the unnatural quiet. The priest stood for a moment, and seeing the child not move, bent down, and picked him up. The poor child was almost skin and bones in his arms!

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Father Michael gazed out of the window at Francis. The boy was doing better now, and no longer flinched whenever people entered the same room, even though he still refused to speak of his past. He was now about ten, his birthday (or at least the anniversary of the day he was found) had passed several months ago, and he was now sitting in the churchyard, reading aloud out of The Bible, surrounded by all sorts of creatures. Birds sat with the local cats, who sat with the mice, all of them unmoving, listening to Francis' voice.

"and let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky – that's you, did you know?" He looked to the sparrow on his shoulder, and it chirruped back at him, before turning its dark eyes back to the Bible in Francis' hands

The Father shook his head silently, he had always known, from the day he took the boy in, that Francis was special. But to see this – the boy following completely in the footsteps of his namesake – was astounding. Francis had always liked the company of animals, preferred in fact to people, but it was only today that he had started reading to them, and Francis' shining green eyes showed just how much he loved all the life around him.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Michael looked through the door, expecting to see Francis asleep, or at the very least, in bed. Instead, Francis was on his knees, his hands clenched tight, his mouth moving silently. Michael smiled to himself, happy the boy had been saved. He paused a minute, to watch the boy, and was amazed as a soft golden glow spread across the room, emanating from the child. Unheard voices whispered behind him, but he stood, transfixed, the glow growing brighter as Francis prayed. A soft wind played across the room, and Francis' hair stirred lazily in it.

Francis stood, the wind still playing, and the glow still shone. The boy slipped into his bed, and Michael left, humbled by what he had been allowed to witness.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"ALBUS! GET YOUR BONY ASS IN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" Albus paled in his chair. If McGonagall was using _that_ kind of language, he had obviously done something very, _very_ wrong. "Albus... Think very carefully before you answer this, but why is Mr Potter not in the book of students for this year..." McGonagall tailed off dangerously.

"My dear Minerva, I'm sure it was just a malfunction, come with me, we shall go find the boy immediately. " Albus stood, and with a twirl of his wand, his splendid robes were changed into a pinstriped suit, albeit a purple one. He tucked a golden pocketwatch into his breast pocket, and helf out an elbow for Minerva. "Shall we floo to Bella's, my dear?"

The two school teachers dusted themselves off in Arabella Figg's living room, and strode out the house, Albus guiding Minerva down to number four, privet drive.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Francis sat in the churchyard, staring up into the sky. A few birds were skawking in the trees surrounding him, but that was not what had his attention. No, the haired child was gazing on a white speck, growing larger and larger each second. He held up his arm, and the speck fell, revealing a snowy owl, quite small and young, that perched on his wrist. With a bark, she settled herself down.

"Hello there, pretty one. I'm called Francis. Who are you?" The owl barked at him again. "You've come for me?" Surprised didn't begin to cover what Francis felt – an owl, coming out of nowhere, and apparently, she was his. "Well then, we shall have to name you. How about after my patron saint? Would that work for you girl?"

The owl seemed to consider for a moment, before bobbing its head, and barking loudly. Michael looked out of his window, and could only smile, the boy really did get on with animals rather well.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Of course I threw the freak out, he was a danger to us, to our way of life! Don't look at like that, oyu know perfectly well what I mean! You left him here, giving us no choice in the matter, no guidance, and suddenly, all these strange things happen here. I came home one night, and there he was in the kitchen, floating knives round the room, couldn't stand that sort of unnaturalness.

I don't know, probably cooking I suppose. Of course he did, had to earn his keep somehow!

What do you take me for, one of your lot? No, I gave him some food, a jumper, and then made him leave. He was a danger, don't you people get it? What if he had dropped those knives on my son? You said a killer was after him, you think I want that sort attracted here? You're barmier than you look.

No, that's enough. I've had it with you. Leave, now. Don't bother coming back.

Stupid wizards. This is MY house.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

And Francis grew up. He attended a normal school, and achieved reasonably high grades. He worked hard, and diligently, and if anything _odd_ ever happened around him, that was perfectly acceptable. The teachers had been forewarned by Father Michael about what could happen around Francis, and whilst none of them had initially believed, the warm feeling they all got following the first assembly of the year was rather new, and helped settle many of the children.

Of course, Hedwig caused a stir as well. But as Francis refused to be parted from her, and she was rather intelligent, and never made a mess, so the teachers and students at St Cantius' eventually relaxed. Francis, with Hedwig on his shoulder, soon stopped even being an oddity, and faded into the background of school life.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Well then Quirinus, I must say I am surprised. Of all the defence professors we have had, not a single one until now has managed to break the so-called curse, how on earth did you manage it? Actually my dear boy, don't tell me, let me figure it out for myself, I always did love a nice riddle."

"O-of course H-H-Headmaster, m-m-m-may I ask how much long-g-g-ger you wish to keep that t-t-t-troll I found for you?"

"Oh my dear Quirinus, I'm sorry to say I may need it for quite some time, that is alright, isn't it?". Quirinus nodded, his turban bobbing with him. It had been a quiet year, and Lord Voldemort had decided that without Potter, it was not worth rushing to get the stone. Oh, he would get it! But it need not be now, not with such a willing host. And when he finally took the stone, he would make sure none were the wiser. None at all...

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Francis breather deeply, the cool cavern air around him calming his thoughts. But this was it, the cavern at Lourdes. Having passed all his GCSEs with flying colours, Father Michael had arranged for him to take a trip abroad, to learn and to meet new people. And Francis was loving it. A beautiful girl, perhaps a year younger, stood next to him. Her silvery blonde hair and her deep blue eyes were breath-taking.

"_It is beautiful, is it not?"_ she asked of him, looking out across the cavern.

"_Yes, I almost can't believe I'm here. I'm Francis Temple, may I ask of your own name?"_ She giggled, and looked up at him, her silvery eyelids fluttering.

"_I am Gabrielle Delacour, but to you, I..."_ She caught herself, and looked at Francis' scar, the one that had never healed. Shaped like a lightning bolt, he had always been fascinated by it, and kept his hair cut short, always showing it. "_I do believe you may be famous, Francis, come with me, let me explain."_

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"You mean to tell me I'm a wizard? My 'gifts' are not that, but magic?"

"Yes, and no. No other wizard I have ever met has ever had the ability to talk with the animals such as yourself Francis, but that is not all. Your real name is Harry Potter, you are incredibly wealthy, and you are THE most sought after celebrity in our world. After your supposed death at the hands of your relatives, our entire world has been looking for you, and it must be pure chance none of us had found Your real name is Harry Potter, you are incredibly wealthy, and you are THE most sought after celebrity in our world. After your supposed death at the hands of your relatives, our entire world has been looking for you, and it must be pure chance none of us had found you. Until now." Francis was shocked. Gabrielle had taken him to a little restaurant, and between courses, had shown him some basic magic, explaining that the French Ministry had severely lowered the age limit on casting, due to the rise of some British Dark Lord with a silly name. And apparently the capital letters were important.

But tomorrow she was taking him to London, through the fireplaces of all things, and was going to show him just what he had missed out on. Stopping, of course, back at the church, to explain things to Father Michael.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The priest had been remarkably understanding in the end, saying that even if the gifts were magic, they were still a gift from God, even if it was through the intermediary of DNA. And then Francis, who had been told he had to retain Potter as at least part of his family name, had seen his vault.

He had never seen such wealth before, and to find it sitting in a vault, doing nothing but gain interest, was a shock for him. Gabrielle led him out of the bank, still in a slight daze, and took his hand, walking him back down the alley. After a short talk with the goblins, the bank had agreed to release a short statement to the press on his behalf, letting the magical world know, in very little detail, what had happened to him since his birth. Suffice to say, even the goblins were shocked.

A loud bang startled the two of them, and a pale, noseless man strode down the alley, people screaming and cowering as he passed them. Gabrielle ducked behind Francis, frantically begging him to run back the bank. But he did not. He may not have been a Salvationist, and he may have been told murder is wrong, but the green death spewing from the noseless man's wand was a worse evil.

Quick as a flash, Francis darted forward, and put his hands on the noseless man, one on his head, and one on his heart. This wasn't any different to when Hedwig had been blown off-course by a wind, crashing into the side of the church. He focused on where the man's nose should be, and started to pray. The noseless man screamed, bucking and clawing underneath Francis, but he didn't let go, din't pause, until he felt the man underneath quieten and calm down, at which point he removed his hands.

The man was now rather handsome, and crying. He looked down at his wand, and snapped it, curling up, and sobbing into Francis' shoulder.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It was a small ceremony, and the last Father Michael would ever do. He was supposed to retire yesterday, but stayed for a final blessing. He smiled to himself as he finished the rites, blessing the couple in front of him. He was glad that Francis had found his birthright, and gladder still that Francis had found Gabrielle. He could feel it inside himself, he knew he wouldn't last much longer, a year or two at most, but to have raised such a magnificent man?

Michael had found his calling.


	2. Fun with Fidelius

Again, a silly little drabble. I often wondered the extent to which the Fidelius charm could be abused - it would be brilliant for pranks, and incredibly for the war '_Hestia Jones is part of the Order of the Phoenix_', and BAM! Voldemort doesn't know who he's fighting anymore.

And I don't believe the guff in some stories about how the charm is long-forgotten - Sirius is imprisoned for betraying the Potters, and people know he was the secret keeper. I can't belive the ministry wouldn't demand an explanation of the spell if they didn't already know it.

Expect similar ones in the future. This was relatively fun to write.

* * *

><p>"Professor, I had a few questions for you, about some advanced charms work. I was wondering whether we could discuss them after dinner?"<p>

"Of course Mr Potter, my door is always open to inquisitive students." Harry smiled, and walked back to Gryffindor table. Fifth year was being a bit of a bitch really, and taking the evening off, even if it was only to ask questions of Professor Flitwick.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Professor, I've been told my parents hid under a Fidelius charm, but nobody has ever told me what that actually means, could you, please?"

Flitwick sat back in his tall chair, and stroked his chin for a moment, before leaning forwards again. "Well Mr Potter, I must say that is rather an advanced charm, but I shall do my best to explain for you. At the most basic level, the Fidelius charm hides one or more facts from the universe. This fact could be anything you wanted. In your parents case, it was used to hide the knowledge of where they were staying – You-Know-Who could have been standing outside your house, looking through the window, and would have seen no signs of human habitation. In fact, if your parents had opened the door and talked to him themselves, he wouldn't have known who they were. In the case of where we met over the summer, the charm hid both the location of the building, and the meetings that occurred there, do you understand that?"

"Yes Professor, you've explained it admirably" Flitwick smiled, "but what of other things, photographs, or letters, or anything really?"

"A very good question Mr Potter and I must say I don't know. However, as the knowledge of where your parents lived was removed from my mind, and at least one owlvelope I'd already addressed, I must assume that the magic deals with this, and removes the fact from wherever it may be known. Obviously, a better known fact would require more power than one lesser known – I doubt even Dumbledore and You-Know-Who working together would be able to remove the knowledge of the existence of London, for example, but even a first year should have sufficient power to hide something significant, such as the amount of time since they last cut their toenails."

The two chortled at this, before Harry stopped, a serious look on his face. He thought for a moment, absently running his hand through his hair. "So, sir, could it be used to hide an absence of a fact – if I had enough power could I hide that I did not have porridge at breakfast today?"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"You wouldn't believe it Minerva, the questions the boy was coming out with! And all this time, I thought he would never take after Lily!"

"Indeed Filius, although as his Head of House I must ask you to not poach him from" Minerva replied, with a warm smile "Although I would not find it remiss if you worked on this further with him, if you could, he has lost so much this year."

"Oh no worries Minerva, in fact, we already have our first experimental session set up! You could join, if you wished?"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Now Harry, what you must do is know EXACTLY what you want to hide, and then write it down, concentrate on that, and on whom you want to hide it in. To begin with, we shall start small – the colour of your socks perhaps. Could you please change them without letting me see... Done? Good! Now, the incantation is _Fidelio_. And lift up your robe... Minerva, what colour would you say the Harry's socks are?"

"I... I couldn't tell you Filius, as soon as I think I can make the colour out, it seems to change... Bravo Harry!"

"Indeed! As this is extra-curricular, I can't award any points to you, but I do believe that you might find practicing your animation charms comes in useful in the next few days. Now, to end the spell, all it takes is a _finite_, although this must be cast by the secret keeper – remember that Harry, and do your best not to hide that knowledge. If a muggle was ever the secret keeper for anything, why, the charm would never end! Lurid orange, Harry? I do believe we'll make a Dumbledore out of you yet!"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The sessions had been going on two or three times a week for the past month and a half. Harry was rather pleased with the results. Whilst he was nowhere near as powerful as Dumbledore was, Harry had developed finesse for wording his secrets so as to minimize the power output needed. It did help that if he wasn't powerful enough to cast the spell, then it simply wouldn't work.

He was rather enjoying himself, as the day before he had _hidden_ the fact that Malfoy's wand was in his left trouser pocket. Of course, Snape had docked points, assuming Harry had stolen it, and so when Harry ended the charm, it was a glaring and sullen man who had been forced to return the points. Whilst McGonagall had looked on sternly from the staff table, Flitwick had winked at him.

Yes, life was rather good.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Headmaster, I need an answer to a question..." Harry stared at Dumbledore. It had taken two weeks to track the man down, as he no longer came to meals, and still, the old man refused to meet Harry's eyes. Until, at least, Harry asked his question. "How many people are aware of the birth name of Voldemort?"

The headmaster looked up, and looked into Harry's eyes for the first time that year. "Is this related to your work with Professor Flitwick, Harry?" Choosing not to be belligerent, Harry nodded. The Headmaster looked pensive for a moment, before responding "I do believe, Mr Potter, that you may be onto something. Tell me, did you have a plan?"

And Harry had pulled a list out of his pocket, and with a smirk, cast a _finite_ on the parchment, causing the previously hidden letters to appear. Dumbledore smiled broadly at this, and took the list from Harry's unresisting hand.

"Yes... his birth name is a good place to start; I would like to believe he would be slightly shocked if he couldn't remember his past life. And gems? What on Earth would need seven large diamonds for?"

"Batteries, Headmaster. As you can see from the next spell, the power requirements might be rather high, and I really would prefer to not fail at this. And, sir, I know we haven't been talking much this year, but I really would prefer it if it could be you that cast the obliviation... After Lockhart, I don't really want many people casting that spell near me"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry walked out of detention, grumbling, and rubbing his hand. And idea struck him. Two quick charms later, he set off with a wide grin to find his Head of House.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Professor McGonagall, I have some things you should maybe know... First of all," Harry took some papers out of his pocket "Delores Umbridge owns normal writing equipment. Secondly, Delores Umbridge's Blood Quill does not look like a normal quill. And finally, although this isn't hidden, she has used that said quill on me throughout the year. You are now the only person in the castle except from me aware of these facts.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It was a cheering school that watched as Delores Umbridge was carried out, her hand ripped apart as if by a knife. No-one would ever be able to figure out what had happened, as any time the medi-wizards could come close to the truth, they would promptly forget, and all their written postulations would disappear. As she was not well liked by any of the staff at St Mungo's or the Ministry, nobody really cared.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"_Fidelio_!" Harry shouted, before collapsing to his knees. Dumbledore quickly handed him a pepper-up potion, and the glowing diamonds. "F-_Fidelio_!" he gasped, as the diamonds lost the sparkle, and he fell to the floor, utterly exhausted. Dumbledore sent a message through the portraits for the Matron; before turning his wand firstly on Harry, and then on himself, and with those obliviations, the war ended.

A piece of parchment was left lying on the floor. It would be the next morning that a house-elf would pick it up, and read '_Voldemort was born as Tom Marvolo Riddle_', before turning the paper over, reading the other side – '_Voldemort returned to life after the third task in Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts_'. But Hogwarts house-elves are not particularly aware of the outside world, and thinking this to be mere scrawlings of a student, incinerated the paper herself.


	3. Quick to Anger

Hello again! This time, I give you yet another short fic. No real pairing, talks about H/G and R/Hr. Basically follows canon. Set four years after DH (not counting epilogue). Normal disclaimer applies.  
>The final scene was what popped into my head after reading something somewhere on here. The rest is just set-up. The ending might be a bit abrupt, but I couldn't be bothered writing any more for this.<p>

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><p>Harry woke, and the house was silent. He wasn't used to silence in the morning. He couldn't remember a single time in his twenty one years – at the Dursley's Petunia had always gotten up hours before dawn, primping and preening the house. At Hogwarts and the Burrow he'd gotten used to Ron's snores and clanking of the ghoul in the attic. Hell, even on the Horcrux hunt they'd had the semi-constant 'all is well' beep from the wards around the campsite.<p>

Since killing Voldemort, Harry had rarely spent the night alone. 'Grimmauld place doesn't do single beds' Sirius had often said, and he was right - after Harry and Ginny had split, he generally could find someone to pick up in either world. He was famous in the wizarding world, but even amongst the Muggle's he stood out, designer clothing, expensive haircuts; he drew appreciative and jealous looks wherever he went.

He slid out of the bed, feet padding silently on the cold flooring. He paced past Ron and Hermione's room, but they weren't there. They'd moved in pretty quickly. Something about 'living in sin' meant Mrs Weasley wasn't too happy them staying under her roof. Harry went further, and tried Ginny's door, just in case she'd brought her current conquest. Like Harry, she rarely spent the night alone.

Their break-up had been amicable, and they were still on great terms. They often went out together, and if one of them would end up going back alone, they'd leave together. The war had been hard, and cold, and damaging. Harry kept his friends close, protected, and they looked out for each other. They'd never talked about it, but both he and Ginny knew they'd always be a part of each other's lives, and almost certainly share beds and lovers. But nobody either of them brought back could ever really understand that. But after Ron had left the hunt, and Hermione followed, Ginny had found him, and for a while, life hadn't been bleak.

He reached up, and ruffled his hair, unconsciously thumbing his scar, and then stroked his arm. The long, jagged scar wouldn't ever heal, and it was possible to see splinters and feathery remnants, in the right light, from where Voldemort had shredded Harry's arm, permanently embedding his wand into his body. It had stopped hurting only an hour after the final battle, but he still got painful twinges if he was ever in an extended duel. Luckily, he was now one of the most powerful wizards on the planet, so his duels tended to be short. He had deliberaltly left the scar, asking the healers to leave it alone, so he would have a physical reminder of the final battle.

That, and of course, chicks dig scars.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

He slipped into the shower, still slightly unnerved by the unnatural stillness that permeated the house. The water trickled down his back, hot and steaming, his body dispelling the last of his sleep. He washed thoroughly, spreading the lather to cover himself completely before stepping back under the spray. He turned up the pressure again, the water hissing as it hit the sides of the shower, frosted glass misting up in the heat.

He looked down at himself, not even noticing the muscles or scars anymore. They were as much a part of him as his hair now, his magic toning and firming him more, even after hours in the gym or pool. He sluiced himself clean, and stepped out, picking up his wand (well, it was actually Tom Riddle's, but nobody had to know that...) and dried himself with a short wave. He stepped through to his room, and another wave caused his clothes to sail gently out of the cupboard, hovering in the air until he reached out to pull them on.

A crack split the air, and he was gone.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The crack echoed around the smooth walls of the underground cave. It hadn't been easy, but Harry himself had hollowed this out, a completely sealed training facility, runes carved into the wall providng fresh air and banishing the old. Nobody else knew of this, and even if he they had, they wouldn't have been able to apparate in, not unless Harry himself gave them the co-ordinates. He twirled his wand, and the mannequins around the wall sprung to life, paintball guns firing almost continuously, red and green splats marking where they hit the walls.

Harry began slowly, with gliding, unceasing movements. He span and ducked, wand throwing out blasting hexes as he moved around all the simulated spells. The mannequins were self-repairing, so he could truly throw as much power as he wanted into the hexes, sometimes reducing them to mere rubble, before they remodelled themselves.

The movements were something that Harry himself had come up with. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he had based them on something he'd seen on a film, but the actually mechanics of the movement, and the timing, were something he'd created. It was a simple thing, once he got started, although even Hermione had trouble understanding _why_ he was so good at them. But it was impossible to refute the fact they worked. In a demonstration the previous week, Harry had taken on a group of the Ministry's best Aurors.

They hadn't stood a chance. Not when Harry shifted into his highest level.

Before that test, it had been strictly theoretical. Short range apparations, and a multiple-use pre-programmed portkey. All he really had had to do was pull the 'programme' through his occlumency barriers, and let it run to completetion.

And so he did it again, with minor modifications each time after watching in the pensieve, and the dummies fell, over and over again, as he popped and rushed around the room, tumbling in one direction and letting hte portkey spin him the other. Nothing could come close to him.

The portkeys were really works of art more than anything else. Nearly a year of free time had gone into research the production. Ron hadn't really been impressed that Harry was _studying_ of all things, but Hermione and Ginny had understood, and helped. He'd done something, in the end, that nobody else had ever managed. The portkeys would work from anywhere, and transport you a set distance, and another layer of detail let him make series of these trips, and all he had to do was _remember_ the path he took, as the portkey always followed it, or as close as the failsafes would allow.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"So we're all clear on what we have to do?" Murmurs of assent met her question. "Fine, we'll go through it one more time. I stand here, and you over there, that's it. You've got the darkness powder? Throw that when he opens the door."

"Now come on, one more practice!"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry stepped out of the bank, a small smirk playing across his face. The goblins may not like him, but they did respect him – not only was he the first (and quite possibly last) person to ever rob Gringotts, he also managed to take one of their security dragons! It did wonders for his dealings with them, after all, nobody wanted to risk their lives on an assault on the Man-Who-Won.

He strode down Diagon Alley, the crowds parting before him. His prowl automatically affirming his position in society, his strength, his rule. It wasn't spoken of, but everyone knew who the most powerful wizard in the United Kingdom, and perhaps the World, was.

Today's visit hadn't really been anything important, it was more to keep his mind occupied. It was Halloween tomorrow, and as such, he liked to keep himself busy. He hadn't done anything deliberately, but it just so happened that he was likely going to be locked away in his study for the next few days. Andromeda could cope with Teddy for a while, and Ginny would be able to find herself a bedmate if she truly needed someone. He clutched the bundle of papers closer to himself, contemplating giving it another go. They'd grown since the split. If it could really be called that. And they did spend a lot of time together, a hell of a lot more than he now spent with Ron or Hermione. His mind made up, at least for the moment, he disapparted with another crack, to just outside number 12.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

He stepped through the door, and darkness engulfed him. It was unnatural – tendrils twisting sinuously across his skin, across his vision. Without a thought, he brought forward his program, blasting and petrifaction hexes and banishing and binding charms as he apparated around the room. He span, delivering a kick to something he'd heard drop, and apparated again, deliberately splinching whatever it was that had grabbed hold of him. A shrill scream of... Wait...

That was HERMIONE's scream...

He stopped, and with a twirl of his wand, the darkness slowly lifted, revealing the Weasleys, Hermione, and a few other school friends plastered to the floor. A tattered banner hung from the ceiling, proclaiming "Surprise!"


	4. Dear Dad

_So this is a TGYH challenge from elsewhere, and I decided to post here. It's done in the format of a diary/letters, and no, you aren't meant to know who's writing it until the end. Hope you enjoy it._

_I churned this out in just over an hour. And, as often, it is only betaed by my brother, who can be found in my favourites list._

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><p>Father,<p>

I'm at Hogwarts now (though you probably know that – you waved me off this morning!), and I've been sorted. I'm doing just like you said, and keeping a diary of what goes on. But I'm going to write it to you. Only _girls _keep diaries, that's what William said anyway, and he's a boy in my dorm. The dorms are different to what I'd expected, but they're still nice. It's going to be great, sleeping with friends each night!

I made another great new friend on the train today, dad. He's a third year, and he told me to call him Mark. There were a few second year boys being mean to me, saying horrid things about you and mum, from the war with You-Know-Who. But Mark walked past and hit them, told them to show some respect, even if they were on the other side to their parents! He seems well nice; do you think he could come over this summer? I'll have to write and ask you soon.

I have to stop writing now though, lights are going out in ten minutes, and I need to find the loo!

* * *

><p>Father,<p>

I just found this down the back of my bed. Sorry I haven't been writing in it often. Not that it matters, I guess. I don't think you'll ever read this anyway, and if you do, the break won't matter.

Well we've just had Christmas of second year. I know I lied to you about why I wanted to stay here, but Mark was staying here this year, and I couldn't let him be alone. Not after he spent last Christmas by himself! We've been talking quite a lot, not many people stayed this year, which was odd. I haven't seen much of him apart from that though; he's been busy revising...

Mark got me an awesome present this year, he says he got it for me for being such a good friend, but I knew it was for staying with him. He says he really liked coming over last summer. He got me a great book on flying, told me I could easily make the house team if I put in lots of practice and tried out next year!

* * *

><p>Dad, something Marcus (he says that 'Mark' isn't dignified enough now he's older, even though he's only a fourth year.) said has been bothering me. He told me the Ministry was being unfair with muggleborns! I thought you might know, cuz you work there. But I've had a look through some of the books in the library here, and he was right! The laws aren't fair at all!<p>

I thought you'd said that England was right. That our laws were right. But Marcus showed me a book he got from Europe, and they have much better laws. Why is that dad? I wish I could write these in a letter for you, but Marcus says it's best to have a talk about this in person, in case you misunderstood, like the teachers did when he asked them. Hopefully I won't leave this here over the summer, and I can look through it, I might remember then.

* * *

><p>I think I did quite well in my exams. I hope I did. I messed up on my charms exam though, and mixed up the slashing and drawing motions. I don't think that it was marked too highly.<p>

* * *

><p>It was. But Flitwick says that I made up for it in the rest of my exam. I still got an E, and only just missed the O.<p>

Marcus was right though. I looked at the marks we'd all been given, and the skewing was incredible! I would've thought that the professors were better than that at Hogwarts. I'm starting to believe he could be right about the rest of it too...

* * *

><p>The summer holiday we went on was great this year, thanks dad! But that's not what I'm writing about. Firstly, HARRY POTTER is starting this year! I wonder if I could be his friend, like Marcus was mine. That'd be awesome, wouldn't it? Secondly, I wanted some advice. I was going to write to you, but I know you'll share with mum; you always gang up and tease me about stuff like this! Maybe you'll have grown out of that if I ever show you this?<p>

But I bumped into this really pretty girl today. She's my year, but she's in Ravenclaw, just like mum! You were right, smart girls are the best. Marcus doesn't like her much, but he said that she could be 'worth something, at least'. I didn't understand, but he just smiled when I asked what he meant. He said he'd tell me when I was older.

I've got to go now, I'm meeting her in the library, I've got some work to do for Quirrel, and he doesn't accept anything if it's late.

* * *

><p>I helped Flitwick in class today with the firsties. They really aren't good at all. At least some of them were able to levitate their feather, but Potter couldn't get his to move very far. He isn't a good wizard at all. Marcus was right again, living with the muggles obviously made him weaker.<p>

But then when he got it to _twitch_, Flitwick gave him a pass for the lesson! They've started skewing the lessons now, not just the exams. Dumbledore is breaking what Hogwarts stands for!

I'm off now though, that pretty girl, Mari, said she wanted to show me something interesting by the lake. I wonder what she found?

* * *

><p>WOW.<p>

I didn't know kissing was like _that_!

I can see why you kiss mum so much...

* * *

><p>THAT STUPID OLD MAN.<p>

I can't believe he'd do that! He's ruining the system!

FIFTY POINTS FOR A GAME OF CHESS? IS HE INSANE?

If this is what Hogwarts is going to be like now that Potter's here, I think Marcus might be right. Dumbledore really is a muggle-loving fool.

Oh everyone clapped of course. Except the Slytherins, but everyone accepts that now. At least we can leave soon, only two more days until the summer. Marcus said I could visit his place this summer, which should be nice.

* * *

><p>Potter's the heir of Slytherin!<p>

Well, he isn't. Everyone knows the bloodline of the Potters – a possible link to Gryffindor, but they _couldn't_ be related to Slytherin.

So I and Marcus came up with a plan. The Ravenclaws might be smart, but they get all their facts from books. I lied to Mari, I told her that Potter's mum looked really similar to a witch from your year, who didn't come back for her final year, Willow Burke. I remember you telling me that her mum moved to the French ministry, but Mari didn't need to know that.

It was dead funny though, because the Ravenclaws came up with all sorts of 'proof' that Lily Potter wasn't really a muggleborn. I and Marcus didn't have to much work to push it. Apparently, the Burke's ARE sort of related to Slytherin. They all came from the same village, some marshy place up here in Scotland.

* * *

><p>She cheated on me dad, what do I do?<p>

And it was with a piece of filth. A stinking mudblood. How DARE she?

I won't be able to write much this year. Marcus said that with OWLs coming up, he'd help me study, as he already did them.

He showed me this great spell his dad showed him over the summer. I didn't know you could remove people's memories!

When we get good enough at it, we'll show that piece of filth where he belongs.

Anywhere that there isn't magic.

* * *

><p>Again, Dumbledore amazed me with his stupidity. HE LET A WEREWOLF TEACH HERE ALL YEAR!<p>

But I reckon I passed all my OWLs, even History. And then Marcus took me out to celebrate. He even brought one of Mari's friends, some Asian girl. He showed me a few more things you could do with the memory charm. Apparently, you can make people believe all sorts of things with it.

So now she thinks she's my girlfriend. Next year should be fun, so should the summer.

And Marcus told me something else, too...

His father's mark was coming back. The Old Families are getting ready, in case _He_ comes back too. Marcus didn't say much else, but he did say how much fun his dad had had, even under the Imperius curse.

* * *

><p>The World Cup was great. Especially the party afterwards. It was a shame the Aurors tried to break it up, but Marcus managed to apparate us both away. He's a great friend dad, even though you wouldn't agree with him. We're going to change the world dad, make it better. Make it <em>purer.<em>

He also managed to tell me about what's going on at Hogwarts this year. I reckon I might try and enter. A thousand galleons is a LOAD of money, and could really help me set up after school, with Cho too, if I still want her.

I could probably get a nice flat above Diagon for that. Although if what Marcus whispered about the mark was true, it might not be safe there for longer. And it would be _polluted_.

* * *

><p>I did it dad. I'm the champion for Hogwarts. Now I just have to crush Potter, the frog princess, and the barbarian.<p>

It'll be a breeze.

Your son,  
>Cedric.<p> 


	5. Rules

Emma was not as surprised as she could have been when she found out her daughter was a witch. She had always been a strange child, and finding out that there was a reason, that it wasn't all Dan's fault, had re-assured her, made her feel like she was less responsible for what had happened to her daughter.

She had always been aware of his... proclivities... towards the younger girls. She had, after all, only just turned sixteen herself when she gave birth to their child. And even then, she had always been small for her age, and rather undeveloped when compared to her once-classmates.

But she had been in love with him, all the same. She had believed that he would be able to constrain himself to thoughts, to keep his perversions to himself, or to sate them on her. She had never considered that he might try their daughter. So when she had returned home, arms weighted down with shopping, she had felt more than disgust, seeing her daughter, naked and covered in her now ex-husbands blood.

She had felt guilty.

Oh, the courts never said she was. Neither did the neighbours. They helped her get her life back on track, they helped babysit, looking after Emma's young daughter. And they all came to Emma's second wedding, and said "wasn't it _nice_, that she could find such a good man. Wasn't it about time something went right for the poor dearie".

But Emma kept her first husband's name. Because she still felt guilty, even though nobody else believed it to be. She needed to feel marked.

He was a nice man. And, unlike Dan, his kindness was not just a veneer. He pulled long hours in the constabulary, more than enough to provide for Emma and her daughter. His long hours kept him away from home, and away from his family. But whenever they had the slightest problem, they knew they could rely on him. Detective Harry Morgan was a good man.

And so, years later, when he found his step-daughter killing the neighbours' dog, he didn't shout at her, or lay her over his knee and beat her. He sat her down, and tried to talk through with her why she had done such a thing. And when he failed to get through to her, when he could not impart the slightest hint of morality to her, he walked away.

He was a good person, and a good police officer. But he knew that sometimes the bad guys got free. And that good people suffered, because of this. So he tried to make his daughter, for he did think of her that way, a good person too. And if all he could do was a twisted mirror image of a good person, it was still the best he could do.

"You must follow the rules, Hermione. You must always follow the rules, and these rules are the most important ones you will ever hear... 

Nothing truly new, just a simple Dexter fusion that's been buzzing around in my head for a few weeks. I saw a post somewhere asking why Hermione was so anal about the rules. And then I talked to my dad about Dexter and his rules, and I though 'why not, I don't remember seeing it before'.


End file.
